


Like Real People Do

by realface



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-01 16:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17247539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realface/pseuds/realface
Summary: There's a learning curve to being an idol. Yukhei's still figuring it out.





	Like Real People Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyOwnCharacterInEverything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnCharacterInEverything/gifts).



Yukhei is in a mudflat.

The sun is dawning bright and gorgeous above him, the white brightness of a winter sun, but the air is biting cold, the type that seeps into the clothes, the fabric, the skin, to the bones, and Yukhei is drenched head to toe, in mud, in a mudflat. He’s never thought of the temperature of _mud_ before, but here he is and his official call: mud can be cold as shit.

“Lucas, I’m sorry,” Jongkook is saying, standing over Yukhei like the sunbae and terrifying fitness god that he is, halfway through a laugh. He bends over a little, chuckling, but he still looks larger than life. Maybe it’s because Yukhei is still sprawled out on the floor of the mudflat, looking up at him in all his muscled glory, but probably mostly because _Kim Jongkook_ just literally bodyslammed Yukhei into the floor in the first two seconds of a wrestling match.

Yukhei can’t even remember what the prize was, or what they were even wrestling for. Pride? Honor? A Running Ball?

“Lucas, are you okay?” Jongkook asks, holding out a hand.

Yukhei grabs his hand and lets himself be bodily pulled up, legs mechanically folding themselves into straight lines as Jongkook yanks him back up into a standing position—“Wow, your core strength is good,” Jongkook says, impressed—and Yukhei blinks against the bright sunlight, puts a hand on his chest.

“Thank you, I’m okay,” Yukhei says, coughing a little to catch his breath. It still feels elusive, out of his reach. “You’re just—really strong,” Yukhei continues, struggling to lift his foot as they walk together towards the edge of the mudflat, Jongkook’s hand still on Yukhei’s forearm.

The other Running Man cast members are still laughing, exaggeratedly leaning on each other in mirth and in relief at not being the ones to go up against Jongkook, playing it up for the cameras; Jaesuk, Yukhei’s partner, has clean towels piled in his arms and he looks joyful as Yukhei struggles up the dirt bank to get back onto solid ground, away from the mud.

Jaesuk drapes a clean towel over Yukhei’s head, rubs it into his hair in an attempt to get the mud off.

It’s a lost cause. Yukhei closes his eyes, drops his head a little. He has a MV taping directly after this that he hopes he’ll be in time for; his stylist, Hongjoo, will probably scrub his hair and skin off in the train on the way back to Seoul.

It’s been a long day; they’ve been filming and running all over Ulsan all morning and into the late afternoon, and the Running Man cast members are full of energy, bantering back and forth like a tennis game, running around the town like the worst of the DREAM team would, and Yukhei has been struggling to keep up all day. He’s the only idol today—the youngest, out of everyone, and so, as Kwangsoo said before they started filming, handing Yukhei a hot pack to warm his hands, “the easiest target for the day.”

“And the most babied,” Jihyo had added, and Kwangsoo bent his head to let her ruffle his hair.

“Hey, man, smile,” Jaesuk says, mimicking Yukhei’s hand motions and ~swagger~ from his introduction earlier in the day, and his hands are warm when he presses them to Yukhei’s face, gentle, “You’re on TV.”

Yukhei says, “Sorry I lost.”

Jaesuk says, pouring a water bottle over Yukhei’s arms and sloughing the mud off with his other hand, “I don’t think anyone expected you to win that, Lucas,” but he’s laughing while he says it. Yukhei rubs one muddy hand along his own arm, pulls the towel down and closer around his shoulders; he’s still shivering, still cold.

Haha opens another water bottle, throws water into Jaesuk’s face, and demands, “Then why’d you make the poor kid go up against _him_?!”

“What?” Jongkook is yelling from the mudflat, where he has Kwangsoo in a headlock, “Are you talking about me over there?”

“He looks like Minho,” Jaesuk says, gesturing wildly at Yukhei’s face, “I thought he could just—channel that handsome face energy and beat Kookjong up!”

Over the chaos of Kwangsoo yelling and mud getting flung into Sukjin’s face, Yukhei shifts his feet together, pressing muddy toes to muddy toes, and says, laughing, “That’s not how faces work.”

Jaesuk clutches at his chest, looking fake-offended. He reaches out to wrap his hands around Yukhei’s neck, barely touching. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” he asks, “Of course I know that’s not—“

Yukhei feels the mud of his face creak and crack through his smile as he tries to lean out of Jaesuk’s hands, and Haha says, amused, “You’re so funny. Does a kid like you have a girlfriend yet? Or someone you like?” He nudges Yukhei’s in the ribs with his elbow, or tries to.

He misses the mark a little, and uses his hand instead, tickling Yukhei’s side, and Yukhei is being attacked from all sides, Jaesuk in front, Haha beside, the boom mic floating above, watching over them.

Yukhei says, laughing, trying to avoid Haha’s hand, not really listening but really answering, too, thinking of another smile, another set of hands, back in Seoul—“Yes, I do have—“

“Whoa,” Haha says immediately, grinning even though he’s cutting him off, “Kid, you’re on TV.”

The rest of the Running Man cast are instantly interested, the cameramen and staff leaning towards them like variety vultures, and Yukhei doesn’t _really_ get it until two seconds later, when Kwangsoo peaks his head up from where he’s laying in the mud, Jongkook sitting on his chest, to say, “You have a girlfriend?”

Jaesuk waves away the question and the boom mic, and redirects back to the game somehow, with all the skill of a pro MC.

The game goes on. They end up losing—their name gets called in the last game, and the punishment is to stand underneath a water bomb in the middle of this freezing winter in a field in Ulsan, but Yukhei is still so grateful that he offers to take the whole water bomb for them both, as a thank-you to being a great partner for the whole day. Jaesuk immediately takes him up on the offer, hastily stepping out of the way seconds before the water bursts free, and Sukjin loudly marvels at how earnest yet dumb the younger generation is.

Shivering, mud caked into his hair, and Hongjoo hissing expletives into her phone the entire two-hour train ride home, Yukhei has to admit that Sukjin’s not wrong.

 

 

Contemplative, before they piled into their respective managers’ cars, Jaesuk had said, “I don’t know if they’re going to air it. Probably not, because—well. Your company is SM.”

He tells Hongjoo this on the train ride home. “They’re not going to air it,” Hongjoo agrees, as if she hadn’t just hung up on a nervous, cursing Jaechan, Yukhei’s manager-in-training, “The managers will block it.”

Yukhei leans his head against the window, icy cold against his skin, and wonders if it’s cold enough to make his sweaty forehead stick, like a child pressing their tongue to the glass. He closes his eyes, and only opens them when Hongjoo shakes him awake, an hour or two or a second later, telling him they’re back in Seoul, and they’re already late to the MV filming and the rest of NCT China are waiting, we need to go.

Yukhei shuffles awake, cracks his bones, slips on his shoes. It is a cold day in Seoul, too. When he gets to the filming site, Jaechan is horrified by his hair, his face, the mud creased into the skin underneath the lobe of his ear, the dirt underneath his fingernails.

“You can’t film like this,” Jaechan says, increasingly panicked, “Don’t you know your fans make gifs of _everything_? They’re definitely going to notice if I let you go on set with mud all over your damn—“

Yukhei takes a makeshift shower, leaning his head over the sink in the bathroom, while Ten lingers in the doorway, asking if he’s okay. Just tired, Yukhei replies, and then he’s swept into make-up and wardrobe, into choreography practice, into individual filming and group shots, warm from stage lights and his members, Sicheng wrapping a blanket around his shoulders during the downtime. He’s so tired, body worn, and he wonders how Mark does it, going from unit to unit without taking a break.

He doesn’t think of that Running Man episode again in the flurry of it all—they fly to China tomorrow for the start of their promotional tour as NCT C, and Jaechan hands Yukhei the scripts for the interviews as he’s shoveling chicken breast into his mouth—and does not even think to mention his slip-up when his members call to ask him how it went.

He falls asleep halfway through the phone call, anyway, head dropping onto Sicheng’s shoulder, in the middle of Mark and Renjun bickering over the phone, almost like a lullaby.

 

 

Two weeks later, SBS airs it.

The camera pans, focuses on Yukhei’s face, and does that Korean variety slow-motion, repeat, slow-motion, repeat for three rounds, the words “ _Girlfriend?!_ ” slapped haphazardly across the screen in large hangul. Yukhei knows this because everyone has sent it to him in horror or in hilarity or both, and because Jaechan sat with him in the hotel room in Shanghai, almost uncomfortably apologetic but mostly angry, saying that he’d thought he’d taken care of it, before they left for China.

The episode is playing on the screen. China loves Running Man; it’s played everywhere online, second only to Running Bros, China’s own version of the show, and Yukhei can’t escape the image of his own face, laughing, eyes fond and smile bright, saying yes, I do have someone, someone I like.

Ten is next to Yukhei on the bed, biting his cheek so that he won’t laugh again; Kun’s hands are over his face, but he’s watching through his fingers. It’s the third time that Jaechan has rewinded the scene. He says, “I have to see what’s going to get me fired. I have to memorize it.”

Yukhei says, fiddling with the rings on his left hand, “I mean, it’s only like a minute. They go onto something else like right away.”

“Don’t go on Twitter,” Ten says, “I think that minute was trending worldwide. Hashtag Lucas has a girlfriend with a bunch of question marks.”

“What were they saying?” Kun asks, and Jaechan says, “We don’t have to worry about Twitter in China. I’m worried about Weibo.”

Yukhei squints at Ten. “How are you getting on Twitter anyway?” he asks, “It’s blocked.”

Ten smirks, shrugs; the trademark Ten look. Yukhei and Kun just nod.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Jaechan asks, leaning his head back against the hotel chair. He looks exhausted, dark rings underneath his eyes. Yukhei wonders how much of that is because of him, alone, or if it’s just NCT C in general, the strain of one manager wrangling a team of boys more capable at the language that he is. Jaechan has a translator, but the members are better at Mandarin, faster at comprehending. Sometimes they’re already moving, listening to the interviewers or staff, before Jaechan can process what’s happening.

“No,” Yukhei says.

“Then why—“ Jaechan gestures towards the TV, horrified.

“Xuxi, do you have someone you like?” Ten asks.

Yukhei focuses on the TV in front of him, where Jaechan has paused. The screen is frozen on a shot of Somin laughing, the skin around her eyes crinkling.

“Yeah,” Yukhei says, after a moment, or two, “I do.”

Kun murmurs something, and Jaechan slams his head back against the chair, pressing the heel of his hand into his left eye. Yukhei closes his eyes, breathes in for a second, sitting between Ten and Kun, before he gets up to go to the gym. He needs to do something, anything, other than sit here and watch himself, the smile wide on his face.

Handsome, he can admit, but the emotion on it is overwhelming. The weight of it is staggering.

 

 

In less than half a day, the clip has made the rounds in China and, if all of their collective group chats are correct, in Korea and around the world as well. Dongyoung posts various memes about it to their group chat; Taeyong calls and leaves a short voicemail, saying that it’s been a mess to deal with but not to worry about it too much.

“Things happen,” Taeyong says, voice warm, “Just do well in China!”

 

 

In the middle of setting up for the W Magazine interview, Mark texts him, _yo, I thought we were friends_

As if to clarify: _I THOUGHT WE WERE CHINGUS, MAN_

Then: _Can’t believe you didn’t tell me u have a gf_

After: _Deets, bro_

The interviewer is getting her make-up retouched next to him. She laughs after the third chirp from Yukhei’s phone and teases, as Yukhei scrambles to silence it on the fourth beep, “Is that the infamous girlfriend?” and Yukhei ducks his head. He stuffs his phone back into his pocket as Ten grins at her, shaking his head, explains it was a misunderstanding, almost a mistranslation, you see, in Korea—

Jaemin texts him, three minutes later: _Can you please call Mark? He’s annoying me and it’s unfair that you can escape this and I can’t_

 

 

Yukhei calls Mark, later that night, because he feels bad for Jaemin, and just—because.

Mark picks up during the first ring, and instantly says, before Yukhei can even say hello, “Bro, how could you?”

“Dude,” Yukhei says.

“I really thought we were, like, best buds,” Mark says; he sniffs dramatically, his voice hitching. Yukhei imagines him wiping away a faux tear, finger curved against the crinkled skin around his eyes as he tries to fight the smile on his face. It’s the same look and voice he pulls whenever they have to do a serious face in pictorials, before bursting into giggles whenever he catches another member watching him. Mark can pull off any NCT concept—Yukhei wonders what DREAM will be like, after him, but everyone is wondering—but Mark’s really pretty terrible at acting, even at this, fake-hurt over the phone.

“We are, you need to believe me,” Yukhei insists, playing along. He wishes they were video-chatting instead, so that he could see Mark when he laughs, the sound bursting out of his chest despite his gulping attempts to hold it back.

Mark says, snickering, “Obviously not, because you didn’t tell me about your _girlfriend_.”

Yukhei doesn’t like lying; doesn’t even really like playing games with other people, even fake imaginary people that don’t exist. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says, earnest and reassuring as if Mark is Jaechan hyperventilating in the hotel bathroom thinking that Yukhei’s caught in a dating scandal the first year after his debut, “I really don’t.”

A pause. A breath, loud, like a sigh.

“Then why’d you say you did?” Mark asks.

There’s a tone in Mark’s voice that Yukhei can’t recognize. It could be the distance or the bad connection; a filter between them. He doesn’t know if they’re still playing, or if Mark is legitimately curious, or upset, or some strange mixture of both, like Jungwoo had been. Jungwoo had privately texted him the hour it happened, asking if it was true, asking if Yukhei needed a cover or a lie or help, at all. Then, when Yukhei denied it, Jungwoo called him an idiot and left the chat.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, man,” Yukhei says, voice dropping, earnest. He presses the phone closer to the side of his face. There’s breathing in his ear—heavy, loud—but he doesn’t know if it’s his own breath, or Mark’s. “I messed up. I was getting tickled and choked at the same time.”

Mark hums, a gentle beat; Yukhei can hear his hand tapping out a rhythm on a surface around him: the conference table, or the the rehearsal room, or wherever else Mark goes when Yukhei isn’t there. Mark says, almost sounding distracted, “That’s hot.”

“What?!” Yukhei says, and Mark starts cackling on the other side of the phone.

“That episode was really funny, though,” Mark continues, while Yukhei pats his own face, hot to the touch, “You were really good on it. We were all cracking up the whole time.”

“You always laugh at me,” Yukhei says, almost pouting.

“I’m laughing _with_ you,” Mark insists.

They talk for a while, back and forth, about new choreography, 19-member Black on Black and if that’s actually going to be a thing, about how the China promotions are going. Yukhei is on his back, laying in his hotel bed, his Korean textbooks scattered around him. The phone is getting hot in his hands, almost too warm to have against his skin anymore, but he doesn’t want to put it on speaker phone. Speaker phone always makes him feel even more distant, somehow farther.

Mark is in the rehearsal room; he’s going to be in a NCT U unit with Renjun, apparently, he says. “Spoiler alert,” he says, “Don’t tell anyone.” Mark talks about what he knows about the NCT 2019 releases, scheduled for filming in a week or so, and asks if Yukhei and the rest of NCT C will be back by then.

“We should be,” Yukhei says, “Jaechan-hyung is super stressed these days because of me so I can’t ask him anything, though.”

“Just ‘cause of the RM stuff?” Mark asks, incredulous, “It was literally just a minute long and then they went onto other stuff!”

“Dude, exactly!” Yukhei says, leaning his head back against the pillows, “That’s what I said.”

Mark says, “It’s not even true, so why is he freaking out?”

“I mean, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Yukhei says, eyes closed. His heart is in his throat. He’s suddenly very glad they’re not video-chatting. “But I do have someone I like.”

Mark says, immediately, “ _Bro_.”

Then, “Well, of course you do, I mean—”

“Mark,” Yukhei says, over the rush in his ears, “Man, I need—”

“Oh, hey,” Mark says suddenly, cutting him off, “I gotta go, Johnny is looking for me. I’ll call later!”

Then he hangs up, and Yukhei is alone in a hotel room in China, phone pressed warm and sweaty against the side of his face.

 

 

Yukhei likes someone.

It’s tiny, really; the smallest crush he’s ever had, but definitely the longest one. The last time Yukhei had a crush on someone, he hadn’t even been able to look Jingxiao in her beautiful face, blushing each time she even glanced in his direction, and Jingxiao had said once, almost impressed, You really play up that confidence for the cameras.

I’m not faking anything, Yukhei had tried to say, you just make me feel shy. It came out such a garbled mess that Yukhei promptly forgot what he said, forcing it out of his brain, and Jingxiao probably had understood bits and parts of it. She’d scoffed anyway, looking almost flattered and a little touched, and told him that he was due back in Korea in like the next two weeks, so stop fooling yourself.

So, Yukhei went to Korea with a broken heart. Then, he met Mark.

And the rest of NCT, of course, and Kun, and then he got to debut in a South Korean boy band and in a South Korean/Chinese boy band where he gets to do all the things he loves and more each and every day, even if he consistently feels like he can fall over and sleep for three days. It’s been a wild ride for a while; Yukhei still feels like he’s barely hanging on, each day.

There’s not enough _time_ to have a proper, real crush, Yukhei thinks.

He hasn’t thought about it too hard—he just—he _likes_ Mark. He likes spending time with him, likes laughing with him, likes touching the palm of his hand to the small curve of skin and bone where Mark’s head leans into his neck, just to feel the solidity of him, his breath, the vibration of his voice. Yukhei likes talking to Mark. He doesn’t get tongue-tied around Mark the way he did Jingxiao, unable to even look her beauty in the eyes, but there’s something—familiar to that feeling, if Yukhei gives himself time to mull over it.

Yukhei feels warm with Mark. Wants to kiss him, sometimes, but the want isn’t overwhelming. Sometimes Mark is just really cute, or annoying, and a kiss would help in both situations, Yukhei thinks. He feels like this with Jaemin sometimes, too, so he’s never been really too worried about it; he pretends to kiss them, gets too close, on VLive sometimes, and grins brightly at the camera each time. 

“It’s a baby crush,” Kun said once, “Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away soon.”

If anything, Yukhei got more comfortable; if anything, Mark got closer. More than once, during filming for BOSS, Mark had sat up straight, leaned over to press his chin onto the width of Yukhei’s shoulder. Relaxed; let his weight sink onto Yukhei’s one side; and closed his eyes.

The first time, Yukhei sat frozen for a second in time, and he remembers seeing their mirrored image clearly in the monitor. In the screen: Mark shifting to get more comfortable, and Yukhei slouching a little even though Hongjoo had specifically said he could not wrinkle this shirt, just to let Mark rest for a tiny bit more.

That was the first time Yukhei had seen his own face, while thinking of Mark. He hadn’t known he was in _that_ deep until that moment. His own face, his own features, shining bright with sweat and stage lights, but so, so fond.

The latest time was the Running Man episode.

Yukhei knows what he looks like when he thinks of Mark; the picture proof of it splattered all over the internet for the world to see, even if the world doesn’t truly understand what they’re seeing. He wonders what Mark looks like when he thinks of Yukhei; if the slope of his forehead would crease, if he would smile, or laugh, or say, soft, mouth tilted up in one corner, _Yeah that’s my friend, Lucas._  

One article title reads: Lucas of NCT C—IN LOVE?!

It sure seems like it, Yukhei thinks a little miserably, scrolling through the myriad of comments saying things like _I don’t even know who this is_  and _He just debuted and already dating? SM is losing their touch_ and _Be happy, Yukhei <3_.

 

 

 

They go back to Korea the following week, piled into a private plane, Yukhei bundled up in Kun’s extra jacket.

The Running Man clip is basically old news now outside of the NCTzen fandom itself, Jaechan reports. Lucas is still a nobody to the general public, and a dating scandal where there’s really nothing but speculation and a variety screencap holds no water in the grand scheme of things. It’s only as big of a deal as you make it, Jaechan says, and Yukhei agrees—some hosts and interviewers have made jokes here and there, but it’s not as bad as they initially thought.

The rest of Yukhei’s members still crack jokes sometimes; still send the memes to each other and to Yukhei, but it’s not a huge deal that’s weighing over everyone’s head.

The reality is that they’re still new. They can’t afford any scandals, even one this tiny. They still have to impress and have to be on their best behavior—despite the good album sales and the screams in the crowd, the ground beneath them still feels unsteady. Yukhei wonders if it’ll ever feel solid, or if it only starts to feel real and forever if and when they get to TVXQ-sunbae status, lawsuits, hiatuses, and a thousand tours later.

They have to cement their brand as NCT first, even though the China expansion is important.

Yukhei and the rest of NCT C stumble off of the tarmac at Incheon, through the crowded airport, dodging their fansites and wandering hands, and into the large black van outside, and instantly are thrusted iPads to share to watch the new choreography for the NCT 2019 song. It’s—fast. And harder than _Black on Black_ and Yukhei is excited to learn it, to try it, even though he feels his body sink into the seat, already aching for a bath and his soft bed back at the dorms.

They go right into practice when they get back to the SM building; the rest of NCT is there, as well, rehearsing in a more advanced practice group. Ten jumps right into that one, falling into line, watching the line of Taeyong’s body as Taeyong dances, and mimics him. Mark waves from where he’s in the third line from the front, grinning brightly.

They haven’t talked in a week—Yukhei had called, after that first phone call, and left a voicemail. Mark called the day after, but Yukhei had been in make-up and Hongjoo had hidden the phone. They didn’t try again after that; just text messages, back and forth, to each other and to the group chat. How are you, and when are you coming back, and man, this dance makes me want to die.

By the end of it, Yukhei feels worn out, jet lagged and exhausted, and collapses to the floor, legs and arms sprawled out around him. The rest of the members do the same, breathing hard. The room is filled with the sound of their breath, in time with each other. Mark crawls over from the other side of the room to flop, boneless, next to Yukhei. Mark’s chest rises and falls, his breath coming in dry.

The winter air makes it hard to practice this hard. The managers should turn the heat on, Yukhei thinks, feeling the icy cold drag in his own lungs now that he’s seen Mark.

“How do you do it, man?” Yukhei asks, closing his eyes, “I’m so tired.”

He feels dizzy. His last meal had been on the flight, hours ago. When had he last had a drink of water?

“Take a break with your friends when you can,” Mark says, and Yukhei can hear his grin, even if he’s not looking at him, “Didn’t you watch the latest JCC?”

“It was twenty minutes long,” Yukhei says.

“It was hilarious,” Mark says, and then, after a beat, Mark’s breath finally coming in a little normally again: “I don’t have to tell you this, but also—eat a lot. It helps.”

“Hmm,” Yukhei murmurs, and thinks of food. There’s the sound of feet shuffling, the squeak of sneakers against the dance room floor. The rumble of the rest of the members getting up. Mark doesn’t move. Neither does Yukhei. “I’m hungry,” Yukhei says.

“Sleep first,” Mark says, sounding far away, even though Yukhei knows he hasn’t gone anywhere, can feel his hand lightly touch Yukhei's forehead, feather light, “We’ll eat later.”

Yukhei breathes in, breathes out, stills.

 

 

When he wakes up, the dance room is dark. It takes a moment for Yukhei to blink the world around him back to clarity.

The room is dark, lit by the emergency lights along the sides; he’s still so, so sweaty; and Mark is next to him. Yukhei is laying flat on his back, legs and arms sprawled out wide. Mark is on his side, head resting on the folded pillow of one of his arms, scrolling idly through his phone with the other hand.

Yukhei shifts onto his side. Mark continues to look at his phone, brow furrowed. Yukhei reaches out, to poke his finger lightly against the soft curve of Mark’s face. Mark jolts at the touch and says, shocked, “Bro, don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry, man,” Yukhei says, grinning, and curls his own arm underneath his own head, so that they’re roughly the same height, looking at each other.

Mark clears his throat. “You hungry?” he asks. He locks his phone, and the one bright light in the room snaps off. The rest of the room is dim, lit yellow and dark, fluorescent. It is like candlelight.

“Yeah,” Yukhei says, and Mark tilts his head to crack his neck, to move, so Yukhei says, “But let’s stay like this for a second.”

“Why?” Mark asks, then jokes: “Just want to look deep into my eyes some more?”

Yukhei scratches at his jaw, through a yawn. Crazy how his body can still so tired, after a nap and with his heart beating so fast it feels like it’s going to jump into his throat. “Yeah,” he says, and hopes his voice doesn’t shake, “A little bit.”

Mark opens his mouth. Closes it. Blinks. Almost chokes on his spit and, coughing, says, “What?” He lurches back and away from Yukhei, eyes wide.

“I mean,” Yukhei says, an edge of franticness in his voice, “Let’s just—relax for a second.”

Mark watches him and resolutely does not relax, body tense, so different from ten seconds ago, before Yukhei opened his big mouth and ruined everything. But they stay like that for a second, in the silence, in the dim light, and Yukhei closes his eyes and times his breath to Mark’s, in and out, in and out, slow. He realizes this is a little creepy. He opens his eyes to see Mark scrolling through his phone again, face illuminated by the backlight.

Mark looks up, catches Yukhei looking at him. “You’re acting weird,” he says, frowning a little.

“Nah,” Yukhei says, falling back to lay on his back again, looking up at the ceiling, “I’m just—tired.”

Mark makes a noise, low; clears his throat again, clears it twice. Yukhei is about to ask him if he wants some water when Mark says, “So who do you like?”

It’s Yukhei’s turn to almost choke. He coughs once, twice, violently, and turns his head to look at Mark, who’s sitting up now, and still not looking at him. He’s looking away, at the ceiling, too, and then at the door.

“I’m mostly kidding but, like,” Mark continues, his face turned away, “I really thought we were good enough friends for us to talk about this stuff.”

“Mark,” Yukhei says. He sits up, his spine straitening, and he feels like he’s moving so slowly that he can feel each vertebrae slide into place, puzzle pieces, and Yukhei hopes that he’s making the right move right now, picking the right—

Mark unlocks his phone, and the backlight floods his face, light everywhere, the planes of it so soft that Yukhei wants to touch. There’s a furrow in between his eyebrows that Yukhei wants to smooth away.

“It’s you,” Yukhei says, “I like you.”

Mark looks up at him, eyes wide like he’s just been caught in a lie, and he says, voice so quiet that it’s almost hard to hear over Yukhei’s loud heartbeat, the burning of Yukhei’s cheeks and Yukhei’s ears, but it’s dark, so hopefully Mark doesn’t see the red in Yukhei’s face—

Mark says, “Don’t fuck with me.”

Yukhei looks at Mark now, who looks confused, the skin around his eyes crinkled, visibly unhappy, the backlight of his phone harsh against his features, casting shadows. Yukhei feels like his heart’s in his throat, overwhelming. This is what Mark looks like when he thinks of Yukhei.

Mark gets up, a flurry of movement, and Yukhei says, “Mark, what—I’m not—” He struggles to get up, to go after him, but Yukhei feels—dizzy, disoriented and Mark is—fast. He’s out the door before Yukhei can say anything further, and Yukhei studies the closed door, memorizing the shape, the color, until his eyes begins to sting.

 

 

 

After that, Mark avoids him.

It’s not as dramatic as it sounds.

Mark has filming with Renjun as part of NCT U, rehearsals with NCT 127 with the new members, and he’s the new MC for Inkigayo for this season, alongside a member from Pentagon. They’ve been spending a lot of time together, rehearsing their lines, trying to get the chemistry down. Yukhei hears all of this from Jungwoo, who is helping Yukhei practice for the new NCT 2019 song, and who pinches the bridge of his nose when Yukhei asks, for the fourth time (he counted), if Jungwoo thinks Mark will talk to him today.

Yukhei also has NCT C practice, NCT 2019 catch-up, and a Korean test to study for. The other day, Kun said that Mark had come looking for him but Yukhei had been in the gym with Jaechan and their new personal trainer, learning how to bulk up his arms but, like, not _too_ bulky. We’re not 2PM, Jaechan had said seriously, We’re NCT. The personal trainer had said, Sure, whatever you want. And then she made Yukhei do like 200 push-ups just to show her his form, and then another 200 until he started doing it correctly. He challenged her to a run, after, and she was beautiful when she laughed, the skin crinkling around her eyes.

Yukhei texts Mark, _can we talk ? i’m sorry_

Mark replies, _I’m busy. Tomorrow?_

Yukhei says yes, but then gets tied down in the studio for two hours longer than he originally thought. Mark texts him, _let’s talk when you get back_.

Mark is filming a VLive with Renjun by the time he’s done, and he feels weird at barging in, even if he probably wouldn’t have even had a second thought about it before. He lingers outside the door long enough that he begins to think he really is turning a creep, fiddling with his rings, sliding them off and on his fingers, and then goes back to his room, curls up on his bed, and listens to Kun practice his Korean, steadily, for a long time.

 

 

On the fourth day back in Korea, Jaechan calls NCT C into the conference room and tells them that they’ll be going back to to China that night.

There’s a music festival tomorrow that they’ve been invited to and bigger Chinese pop stars will be there, and it is an honor that they’ve even been thought of. They’ll try to move around some NCT 2019 schedules to accommodate but, if not, the other members can handle it. Also, make sure to avoid these people in the crowd and don’t be filmed with them, at all costs. He hands them a list of names, as if they all have been living in a hole for the last eight years and know nothing of past Chinese members that they have to pretend don’t exist.

Yukhei and Kun play rock paper scissors to see who has to pack for both of them—they had just played this yesterday and Yukhei had unpacked both of their suitcases, dumped their beauty supplies into the bathroom, folded their socks and neatly laid them out—and Yukhei wins, laughing the whole time out the door while Kun flips him off. He ends up feeling like a loser, though, because he’s leaning against the wall in the foyer of their shared apartment, waiting for the rest of his members to finish packing, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

He’d texted Mark, right after Jaechan relayed the news, _are u free today for like a minute ? i’m going back to china in like two hours_

He got no response, and wondered if Jungwoo would kill him if he asked where Mark was.

Ten texts the group chat that they’ll be leaving for China in a few hours, that if they want any gifts at all, they should be coming by to say goodbye or they’ll be officially dead to Ten during this trip. Taeyong is there in about five minutes, grinning widely, sliding past Yukhei to Ten’s room.

It’s cold in Korea. It’ll be cold in Shanghai, too, and it’s not like Hong Kong is Los Angeles, but for some reason, winters in Korea have always been so much colder.

It’s probably the homesickness, but it’s been better the last few years, with debut on the horizon and his members always around. The great thing about NCT is, despite the confusion, the endless amount of split screen time, and the work, is that they’re never alone. Yukhei can’t remember the last time he felt really, truly lonely.

Yukhei is in the middle of watching a Lovelyz performance on YouTube on his phone when someone knocks. He glances at his phone. One hour until they have to get on the road to Incheon.

He opens the door, prepared for Johnny or Taeil—but not Mark.

Mark clears his throat when Yukhei pauses, uncertain of what to do, and says, “Can I come in?”

“Um,” Yukhei says, “Yeah, of course.”

He steps aside to let Mark in, closes the door behind him. Mark says, “You wanted to talk.”

“Oh,” Yukhei says, blinking rapidly. He didn’t think he’d get to see Mark at all before he went to China, had let the disappointment settle into his bones like the cold, and told himself that he’d make it better once he got back from this trip, resolved to putting it out of his brain until then. Unfortunately, that means that Yukhei literally has no plan right now, or words to say, other than—

“I’m sorry,” Yukhei says, “if I made you uncomfortable.”

Mark tilts his head, confused. He looks like a bird, hair stuck up everywhere, eyeliner dark against the stark white of his skin. Yukhei wonders what he was filming, and what the concept was. Angry birds?

“I promise I’ll try to stop,” Yukhei continues. Then, clarifies: “Making you uncomfortable. And liking you. Because they’re—doing the same—thing, maybe,” his voice stops and starts, unsure, because the corner of Mark’s mouth is tilting a little, into a frown.

How is he still fucking this up?

Yukhei says, “I’m not—”

He can stop liking someone, if he tries hard enough. Granted, Yukhei has never tried that before—Jingxiao literally had to break his heart for him to stop stammering around her, unable to stop liking her until she told him to stop—but Yukhei is twenty years old now, basically a grown up despite what Taeil says, and he can do this. Anyway, this almost feels as bad as the whole thing with Jingxiao: Yukhei’s heart is in his throat, and he feels like he’s going to cry, and Mark won’t stop looking at him, furrowed brow, unhappy.

“It would be really fucked up if you stopped,” Mark says, finally, over the rush of thoughts in Yukhei’s head, “Because I think I’m starting to.”

Yukhei hears himself in Mark’s voice, unsteady; sees himself in the minute tremble, the slight tick of Mark’s cheek.

Yukhei opens his mouth. Closes it. He gulps, saliva, air, feels like he can’t, quite, process—

“Liking you, I mean,” Mark continues, smirking a little, “I think I’m starting to like you.”

Mark steps closer, but does not touch him, even though they are both close enough to do so. Yukhei wants to. He doesn’t know if Mark wants to. He begins to ask, he begins—and Mark presses closer, leans in to touch his lips to Yukhei’s.

It’s awkward at first, hard to maneuver because Yukhei can’t breathe as it is, heart seized in his chest, and now Mark is _kissing_ him. Then Mark tilts his head, touches his hand to Yukhei’s, trapped between them. Yukhei opens his mouth and Mark’s is warm, open, like a summer day, and the kiss feels long, and deep, and perfect.

They stop. Mark pulls away, and Yukhei can feel himself going a little cross-eyed trying to look at his face, the wide slope of his forehead and the curved shape of his eyes, and the look on his face. There’s a furrow in his brow, and Yukhei reaches to smooth it away with the pad of his thumb. Leans in, and kisses Mark again, just because he’s so cute, and because Yukhei doesn’t know what else to do, except to bask in this feeling for the moment he’s allowed it.

“Maybe I liked you before, too,” Mark says, sounding like he’s breathless and drifting, and Yukhei leans forward to catch his lips again, to stop him, to barrel past the quick beat of his heart at those words. The sheer impossibility of that statement is enough to sucker punch Yukhei in the gut, but how impossible is it really, standing here with Mark in his arms?

When he pulls away, Mark follows. It’s like a game Yukhei doesn’t want to end. They are close enough that when Mark says, “You caught me off guard,” Yukhei knows he means both the kiss and the confession, and Mark continues, low, “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

“Me too,” Yukhei says, and he watches Mark’s face one more time before he wraps his arms around Mark’s shoulders. Hugs him; places his chin on the width of Mark’s shoulders, so much shorter than Yukhei’s but no less strong, capable of holding so much weight, and closes his eyes, to lean. Mark presses closer, too, his head almost buried into Yukhei’s shoulder.

Yukhei wonders what they look like, what their members would see if they came down into the foyer at this moment, for a split second, and then decides it does not matter: he feels warm and Mark is here.

 

 

Later, in the middle of the set-up for the musical festival, Mark texts him, _so are we dating now?_

Then: _i can’t believe you kept this crush from me. are you really my #1 chingu? feels like ur CAPABLE OF HIDING SO MUCH_

After: _bro call me when ur done i need answers!!_

The host, standing by while NCT C does sound check, asks, laughing, “Girlfriend?” He nudges Yukhei in the side as if they are old friends.

“No,” Yukhei says, grinning, silencing his phone after typing out a quick reply of _will do, man <3_, “Just someone I like.”

 

 

They webcam later; Mark flushed bright red, half-naked, and Yukhei imagines what he would look like turned on, in person.

“You’re cute like this,” Yukhei says, almost conversationally, but the redness in his cheeks belies his nervousness. He feels naked, but then has to remember that he basically is.

Mark squawks, “Dude, I _know_ I’m cute but you don’t have to say it!”

Yukhei smiles and feels his own cheeks warm, his own smile turn a little lopsided, a little silly. He watches his face in the small image at the bottom at the screen, sees the smile on his face. Love is a good look on him, he thinks.

He wonders if it’ll be a good look on Mark, too.

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays, dear recipient! i'm sorry for the delay and many thanks to the mods for their patience ♥


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